Red
by Riff Raff
Summary: Yet another morbid ROTOQ-inspired piece. Can't you just taste the obsession?


RED  
  
I slammed the door on my way in.  
  
  
Magenta didn't look up from her work. She was seated on the bed, sewing sequins onto one of her favorite corsets. I watched as she carefully pierced the soft fabric with her needle. Her hair was pinned out of her eyes with a black silk ribbon, but a persistent curl had escaped its silk prison and was dangling deliciously near her mouth. She tucked the needle into a piece of fabric and set the corset aside before finally smiling at me. "Hello, Riff," she said softly.  
  
  
"Hello, Magenta." I took a few steps towards her, drowning in the redness of that curl. Why did she keep the rest of it tied up like that? Red was such a good color for her. It reminded me of the many nights she'd spent locked in my arms, when her whole body flushed red at my touch. I wondered if her skin glowed red when DeLordy touched her. That thought sent me staggering onto the bed, almost on top of her.  
  
  
She laughed and moved the corset before I could crush her sequins. "What are you doing? You'll stick yourself with a needle."  
  
  
My hand reached immediately for her hair. I grasped the black ribbon in my fingers and clumsily untied it, sending an avalanche of curls tumbling onto her shoulders. She looked so gorgeous then, with a halo of red, like some sort of demented angel. I climbed onto her and forcibly puched her back into the mattress.  
  
  
She gazed up at me with a quizzical expression, though she was smiling. "Are we playing a game?" Her fingers danced along the front of her dress, undoing a few buttons.  
  
  
I took her hands in mine and squeezed them, wishing to break the frail bones in her fingers. How dare she taunt me this way, seducing me now after she'd betrayed me with DeLordy? She let out a small, playful whimper and I dropped her hands. She was still smiling, and the confused expression was gone. I grasped the material of her dress and tore at it violently, ripping the material off her body.  
  
  
Magenta gasped, either with shock or pleasure -- probably both. "Riff!" she murmured, and her voice was thick. I pressed my lips to hers, hoping she wouldn't speak again. It's a wonder you can remember my name, I thought dryly, pushing her lips open with my tongue. I pressed all my weight into her body, wanting to consume her.  
  
  
When I pulled my mouth from hers, she giggled. I felt one of her legs slip around me, welcoming this attack. She lifted her head to place a kiss on my neck, and the hot sensation of her lips was enough to drive me mad. I took her firmly by the shoulders and thrust her against the bedframe. Her head hit the wood once, then landed lightly on the pillow. She smiled again, but it seemed forced. "Riff, that really hurt."  
  
  
I hope so, I replied silently. My hands traced the curves of her hips, stroking her hot skin as gently as they could. The forced smile left Magenta's face, replaced by an expression of content. She closed her eyes and relaxed into the mattress.  
  
  
I let my hands drift from her lips to her stomach, reveling in her warmth. I kissed her mouth softly while my hands traveled across her chest. She sighed and arched her body against mine as my fingers reached her throat, and even as they tightened. It wasn't until I squeezed her neck with all my strength that she realized we weren't going to make love that night.  
  
  
Her eyes shot open and fixed me with a frightened gaze. Her lips moved as if to speak, but only a small choking sound escaped. "Don't cry, darling," I hummed, suddenly feeling much better about the entire situation. "Don't try to speak. You don't have to confess; DeLordy told me everything."  
  
  
She tried to fight me. Her arms and legs thrashed wildly, but in vain. For a moment I imagined that her face was DeLordy's -- fat, ugly, and completely helpless under my grip. I dug my fingernails into her neck, wishing that she would bleed, so that I could imagine DeLordy's sneering face smothered in blood. Magenta's fists were beating against my back, but I didn't feel it. I pressed my hands forcefully against her throat, and finally she surrendered. Her body lay lifeless under mine, as if she were already dead.  
  
  
"Good girl, don't fight it," I encouraged, glad to see that she was cooperating. "This is for your own good!" I squeezed as hard as I could. Her eyes were wide with fear and betrayal, and they were beginning to look as red as her hair. I allowed myself a laugh, thinking of DeLordy's eyes bulging out of his skull. Those eyes would never look at my sister again.  
  
  
It wasn't long before Magenta's tortured breathing stopped enirely. I maintained my grip on her neck for several minutes afterward, just to be sure. Then I released her, climbed off the bed, and took a few staggering steps backward to get a good look at her.  
  
  
It was then that I realized what I had done. I had murdered my own sister, the love of my life, my soul mate. Suddenly I thought that perhaps it might have been better to talk to her about DeLordy, to work things out in a non-violent manner. Why hadn't I thought of that before? What was I supposed to do now?  
  
  
I hurried to the bed and picked up the corset that Magenta had been working on. I placed it carefully on the beside table, keeping one wary eye on Magenta. She didn't move. She looked so sad and betrayed, lying there. I climbed onto the bed and sat next to her, reaching out one hand to stroke her cheek. "Oh Magenta," I whispered. "I got carried away. Forgive me?"  
  
  
She stared at me without seeing me. Her eyes were tinged with red. It wasn't beautiful like the color of her hair. Gently, I pressed her eyelids shut. "There. Go to sleep if you're tired." I tried to sit still and silent, but guilt was beginning to eat at my brain. "You know why I did this, don't you, love?"  
  
  
She said nothing. I frowned and leaned close to her. "You know why. Don't be angry with me. I had no choice ... I'll win your forgiveness. I always do."  



End file.
